The Inheritance
by Bineshii
Summary: The Tardis, with the first companions: The Doctor, Susan, Ian, and Barbara, lands in Camelot.
1. Chapter 1

**The Inheritance**

A Dr. Who/Adventures of Sir Lancelot crossover story

By Bineshii

**Note before this story begins:** In a couple of fan fiction stories I wrote for The Adventures of Sir Lancelot, I added a new character, Aveline, as Lancelot's younger sister who is the same age as Brian, Lancelot's squire. In those stories, Lancelot encouraged a friendship between Aveline and Brian. Both Aveline and Brian figure largely in this story.

**Chapter 1: The Arrival**

Susan went to the door. "Where are we now?"

"Wait," said her grandfather, scanning the controls. "I do believe we are somewhere...on Earth. Again. England."

"Good!" Ian exclaimed, striding over to Susan and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Home!"

He opened the door, looked around, and stepped out. "The air smells so clean. We are obviously not close to any city. I don't see any roads or buildings. Do you recognize this area?" he asked Barbara who had come up behind him.

"No, but that forest, it is so extensive, this does not seem right...for OUR time."

Ian snapped his fingers and pursed his lips in frustration. "Right place, wrong time, I'll bet."

The Doctor emerged and walked around the Tardis, coming back around the other side. "Sixth century confirmed," he said.

"How do YOU know. Are you sure we are on Earth?" asked Barbara.

"That castle behind us. And that man approaching fast on a horse."

"What?" exclaimed Ian running behind the Tardis with Barbara at his heels.

They stopped short. The horse was caparisoned in colorful cloth, the man's clothes colorful too, over chain mail and he was drawing a sword when he saw them standing there.

"Sixth century?" asked Ian. Is this what I think it is?"

"An armored knight?" asked Barbara. "Really?"

The man slowed his horse to a walk, then stopped completely. He looked them over and lowered his sword a bit, making an assessment that they did not look dangerous, but he seemed puzzled. Then he spoke.

"I am Sir Bors. Who are you and what brings you here to Camelot?"

...

"They seem to be merchants, is my guess, though they say not, My Lord," said Sir Bors bowing before his king. "They say they came in this blue box, yet there are no wheels on it and no horses or oxen to pull it."

"What magic is this?" interjected Sir Kay.

"Summon Merlin," the king barked to a page, his hands on his hips under his red and white plaid robe.

"That is King Arthur," Barbara whispered in awe to Ian.

"I guessed that," he whispered back in irritation. "Every English speaking child's fantasy, this time in our history, but I still would have preferred our own 20th century," he said glaring at the Doctor.

"Silence! Bow to your king!" Sir Bors looked put out at these strangers' manners.

The strangers bowed awkwardly. All but the Doctor.

"You! Old man!" Sir Bors slapped the Doctor on the leg with the flat of his sword.

"Oh, very well," conceded the Doctor ungraciously doing a slight bow.

A white bearded man in a long robe and tall pointed hat swept into the hall followed by a younger man in chain mail and a red tunic with some sort of bird appliquéd on it.

"What have we here?" asked the man in the pointed hat as he walked up to them with no fear. He focused on the Doctor. "You, Sir, are the leader. You are one of my kind, aren't you? Welcome then."

Merlin turned to the king. "Sire, these people are harmless magicians. They should be welcomed and found quarters. I wish to consult with them."

"Such a quick evaluation now, Merlin? Are you sure?" asked the king.

"Quite sure, Sire."

Merlin beckoned for the Doctor to follow him, which he did. As the two 'magicians' stepped toward the door, Susan and Barbara gasped at the man who had followed Merlin into the hall.

"Ian!" they said in unison, then turned to see that Ian was still standing beside them.

...

Lancelot took in the situation instantly. One of these strangers in outlandish clothing looked a lot like himself and the two ladies had mistaken himself for this man beside them who must be this 'Ian'. Lancelot did not know what to make of women wearing trousers. Magicians were a strange lot anyway. Their leader had gone off with Merlin leaving them confused about what they were supposed to do now, thought Lancelot, noting their uneasiness. He looked to his king who was addressing them again.

"Good people, it seems that my court magician is vouching for you, so I will ask my seneschal, Sir Kay, to find quarters for you." The king turned to Lancelot. "Are you known as 'Ian' from any of your missions where you had to use a disguise?"

"No, My Lord," said Lancelot with raised eyebrows. He turned to the strangers, bowing only slightly because he was unsure of their social standing. Then he introduced himself. "I am Sir Lancelot of the Lake, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table."

"Sir Lancelot?" gasped Barbara. She turned and smiled at Ian. "I would never have imagined such an iconic literary character is actually a real historical personage and would of all people, resemble you, Ian."

"Perhaps Lancelot is Ian's great, great, great..." Susan started to suggest.

Barbara broke in again with "Well, they both ARE from the same part of Earth, even if fourteen centuries apart in time."

"My Lady, what is this about resembling me and being fourteen centuries apart?" asked Lancelot, stepping forward and looking Ian over more closely.

Ian, was a bit nonplussed. He nodded to Lancelot and took a deep breath. "Sir, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and astounded by our resemblance to each other. I have no explanation for this resemblance. But you see, we are from the future; you are known to us from our past, our history. As a boy, like every other boy I knew, I read the tales of King Arthur and his knights. All of us lads wanted to be Sir Lancelot when we played at being knights with swords we made from sticks. Again, I am dumbfounded that of all people, I would resemble YOU."

King Arthur, ever the diplomat, said "Merlin talks of the past and the future as if he knows them. Yet I am a skeptic that such great magic is possible, though an open mind would be useful here, until things are proven to be different. And this resemblance is indeed strange," remarked the king. "Could it be the doing of your leader?"

"He is called The Doctor, and he is Susan's grandfather," explained Barbara, as she put a hand on Susan's shoulder. "The Doctor had no hand in Ian's looks. Ian looked as he does now, before we even met the Doctor."

"And my question about fourteen centuries has yet to be answered," insisted Lancelot. "How and why did you come here? I know young boys play at being knights, and I am flattered that they specifically want to play at being me. But they do this fourteen centuries in the future? People remember back that far?" Lancelot's eyes rolled upward communicating disbelief.

"I am an historian by trade, and a teacher," said Barbara, trying to convince Lancelot of the veracity of their statements. "Fourteen centuries is actually not that long in the overall time it has taken for civilizations to develop on our world. Ian is also a teacher and Susan is one of our students. I realize it is hard to believe but we are from fourteen centuries in the future, yet it is true. We have been traveling in The Doctor's Tardis. That is the blue box that your Sir Bors found us beside."

"So only The Doctor is a magician?" asked the king.

"In effect, yes," said Barbara. "But he considers himself a scientist, not a magician."

King Arthur sighed. "This is more magic than I ever thought possible, and of science, I know little. The Doctor must be a great magician indeed. Lancelot, I would like you to make our guests welcome. After Sir Kay has arranged quarters for them, I want you to give them a tour of the castle and stay with them to help them participate in any activities which interest them."

Lancelot caught the king's eye and his hidden, as well as his stated, meaning. He was to keep an eye on these strangers, learn more about them, make sure they were not a danger.

"Yes, My Lord," he said and followed behind as Sir Kay led them off to find suitable quarters.

...

People from all over the known world found their way to Camelot to visit the famous kingdom with its radical new political ideas. So the easy acceptance of the locals, who were used to strangers, made it possible for the four companions from the Tardis to wander about the castle and nearby environment unmolested and often shown great curtsey. The court ladies made quite a fuss over Barbara and Susan, dressing them according to local fashion and fixing their hair - as much as short hair could be fixed.

The Doctor's attire was much remarked on but he was offered no change of clothing, to his amusement. Magicians, the people thought, were a fussy lot, used to their own mysterious ways and dress. The Doctor's gruffness did nothing to dispel this notion. But since Ian was the same size as Lancelot, if only slightly taller, the knight graciously offered to have his squire give Ian some of his own clothes. Of course, they had to be clothes that were without any of Lancelot's personal heraldry.

The days passed, and the four companions got used to the daily rhythm of activities in Camelot. They stopped trying to stay together as a group – a thing the Doctor had done right from the start, in going off with Merlin. Lancelot had assessed them as harmless, so he stopped escorting them everywhere and went back to his routines. But Ian was drawn to his fascinating twin and usually followed the knight around to see what he was up to. Aveline, Lancelot's younger sister, and one of the queen's young ladies, took Susan in hand. So Brian just included Susan when he had free time to spend with Aveline. Though too young to be actually considered a courting couple, Brian and Aveline had become very close.

In the early morning, Ian usually studied Lancelot at practice with the other knights. The man went through a series of warm ups which reminded Ian of Tai Chi. Lancelot then would chose a sparring partner and go through what looked like set drills with slow moves and counter moves. Ian was surprised that this wasn't just an insult-and-challenge exercise with furious hacking away without form. This structured practice was nothing like what low budget films made in the 20th century led the public to believe about medieval life. Ian realized, a bit ashamed, that academic though he was, he still was affected by popular entertainment interpretations of the past.

Ian watched as the practice progressed to heavy exercise with the knights employing their best moves. But Lancelot and a couple of the more esteemed knights would stop for a moment when someone used an effective move against them. They would ask their partner to show it in slow motion. Then they would practice it slowly by themselves, before returning to the same partner or different one, to perfect the new move. Even if they were initially clumsy at it and it took many tries, they stuck with it until they had mastered it. The ordinary knights just used their tried-and-true few favorite moves and, laughing, quit for the day. That willingness to learn something new and expend time on extra practice, thought Ian, was what separated the merely competent knights from the champions. Something that was true in any profession and all time periods, to Ian's way of thinking.

Lancelot and Gawain and Bors were the last to stop practicing. Sweaty, breathless, tired, but quietly satisfied, they cleaned and stored their weapons - even the ones left by the other knights. These few men now had Ian's respect because they approached their profession like he did his, when faced with a difficult science problem. He isolated it, studied it, asked colleagues for help if needed. This is how one got good at things – never being afraid to learn.

The three knights were doing some cool down stretches when Ian left them. All that seemed to separate these people from himself, he was now sure, was the level of technology. Well, and of course some language drift and some cultural practices.

Ian wandered off to where the squires were finishing their lessons with Master Hugh. Brian wiped his sweaty face and brushed back a wet lank of blond hair, then waved at Ian. The boy had invited Ian to share midday meal with him and Aveline and Susan. Aveline had assembled a picnic basket and the four of them were to enjoy it in the shade of one of Camelot's many groves of shade trees.

"So you are a teacher like Barbara?" Asked Aveline. "She of history and you of magic?"

"Not magic, young lady, science," corrected Ian.

Susan laughed. "They both are my teachers, or were, back at Coal Hill School. But we all are kind of students of my grandfather."

"Your Tardis is comfortable," said Brian. "I especially like your shower. No hauling buckets of water to a big tub."

"You took them inside the ship?" asked Ian sharply.

Susan piped back "Ian, be reasonable. It's not like I showed them how to start it up and take off or showed them how to build a gasoline engine or even a steam engine."

"Does your grandfather know about this?" Ian asked.

"Sure. Um, well, I'll tell him when I see him next. He went off to some forest hovel with Merlin for a few days."

"Then I guess that leaves me and Barbara in charge," said Ian, slapping his thighs. "Please be careful about corrupting history and all that. Barbara and I would like to find our 20th century the same as it was when we left it. That is, IF the Doctor can ever return us there."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Such as it was. It was fun to explore, but really Ian, your century could use some improvement."

"I know. Improvement by the people who live in it. That is the way it should happen," Ian scolded.

"I wouldn't mind learning how to build an engine. Is that gasoline engine the one that runs on tracks?" Asked Brian.

Ian looked pointedly at Susan. He turned to Brian. "The steam engine was the first engine to run on tracks. It was replaced by the diesel engine. Diesel is a petroleum product, as is gasoline. But actually, early on, there were steam cars that didn't need tracks and ran on paved roads the same as vehicles with rubber tires and gasoline engines."

Susan laughed. "You see, Ian? Now you are as guilty as I am. Really now, you can't help talking about these things. It is not like we are giving them any idea how to build something."

"I concede the point, Susan, you are right. But just the knowledge that these things are possible to build, that could change history."

"Is it okay for us to teach you how to use a sword? A butter churn? A bow?" asked Brian. "You don't seem to know how to use our...how do you say it? Our tech...ology, either."

"Technology." Ian corrected. "We did know how to use your technology once, but we forgot how to use it when we went on to different technology. Yes, it is okay for you to teach, or rather, re-teach us."

Brian smiled. "Good. Because...Susan is getting rather good with my pea shooter."

...

Barbara liked the look and feel of her borrowed gown. It made her feel graceful as she entered the main hall and was offered a mug of ale by Sir Gawain. What attentive manners, she thought, as she sipped her ale and spotted Susan playing chess with Aveline while Brian watched intently. Sir Gawain took Barbara's arm and seated her at a table where women were doing needle work and men were mending chainmail.

"Good afternoon, Lady Barbara," said a pleasant voice behind her.

"Good afternoon, Sir Lancelot," said Barbara turning in her chair to give him a wide smile.

"You are very becoming in the fashion of our court," he said, pulling a chair over and sitting close to her. "A deep blue, the color suits you."

"Why thank you. And you, in that soft shade of brown velvet, I appreciate it when men dress well for the ladies."

Lancelot glowed with her compliment. He took great care with his appearance and the ladies noticed more than other men did, the details of clothing. The ladies were so good at making a man feel appreciated, useful, and cared for. Besides their beauty, Lancelot loved women for their attention and concern. In this aspect, they were usually superior to men...at least the men he dealt with. Women were friends, not rivals, and deserved special treatment. He brushed Barbara's cheek gently with his finger.

Barbara moved closer, making little movements with her chair until she was so close that her arm practically touched his. He was so like Ian in many ways, but she wished Ian were more like Lancelot in his ease at making small talk and flirting. She listened to Lancelot's voice as he greeted others around the table. Such manners! In her own century, people had forgotten to take time for such graciousness with manners. Everyone was in a hurry in her time like a friend who often brushed past her saying "Hi Barbara, nice to see you, gotta go do some errands, talk to you again soon, okay?" Here in Camelot, people took time to just sit and get to know each other. Of course everyone carried knives here, even the women. So politeness was essential.

Sir Lancelot leaned toward Barbara and said "Would you like to see the rose garden, Barbara? It isn't far and the colors are so vibrant right now, though not as vibrant as you."

What woman could resist such words? Barbara smiled, blushing slightly. The envious eyes of all the women at the table were on her. "Yes, I would like that very much," she said, rising and offering her hand to him.

They left hand in hand, not noticing that Ian had come in through another door and was following them with his own worried eyes.

In the garden, the flowers were as beautiful as Lancelot had told her. Barbara reached out to touch one yellow bloom, then a red one. They were not as large and delicate as the roses of her own time, though. And there was not the variety of shades. But they were carefully tended by gardeners fussing here and there with weeding and pruning. She turned to Lancelot as he picked one bloom and wound it into her hair just over her ear. He stepped back to evaluate the effect.

"There, red looks exquisite against your dark hair. I do believe you would make a blooming addition to our court. Would you consider staying here with us?" he asked.

"That is very tempting. But you see..." began Barbara.

He stepped forward and cupped her chin in both of his hands, kissing her on the forehead. It sent a thrill through her. She had so wanted Ian to do that. Her response was instinctive as she raised her arms and encircled his neck. What was she doing? She wondered, but she could not stop herself. She kissed him on the cheek and almost whispered "Ian".

Lancelot returned the kiss with one of his own, on her other cheek, drawing her close in his arms. Then he whispered to her: "I wish I was free to take this further, but I am not. My heart belongs to another. Just let me hold you for a moment."

Timing is everything. And this was bad timing for Ian who had followed Barbara and Lancelot to the garden. Coming around a gardener's storage hut, he witnessed the gift of the flower and the kissing. Jealousy that he did not know he was capable of spiked through his body. Before he knew what he was doing, he had run up to them and pushed Lancelot away from Barbara.

"Leave her alone! You can't start anything with her like you do with every damn woman you see, like in all the stories about you! She is not of your time! This is wrong!" And he slapped Lancelot.

Realizing he had gone too far, Ian stepped back. He turned to Barbara. "Sorry. But you know we can't get involved with the locals every time we step out of the Tardis. And this, this is our history! You know this man's reputation from legend! And because we have discovered that he actually exists, you know what a danger he is to women!" He bent to Barbara's ear and whispered "from legend, one woman actually committed suicide because of him!"

"Ian! Are you insane?" Barbara pushed him away and stepped back. "Sir Lancelot, I am extremely sorry about this! Really, Ian, what has come over you?"

"Barbara," Ian now had a note of embarrassed pleading in his voice. "Look, I am sorry. But, you see, I care for you...very much. Maybe too much."

"Oh, Ian. Me too. I wish you had said something before now. But this..." she looked at the crowd that had gathered. "We have caused a scene."

Many people had seen Ian slap Lancelot. To them this meant something very significant. Barbara, who was something of a Roman through Medieval period scholar, knew what it meant too.

Lancelot glared at Ian. "I had no idea there was an understanding between the two of you. Besides, what made you think I am a danger to women? I am a protector of women! Being sorry does not remedy this situation. There is something else which must be done about it." Lancelot was very aware of what his role was now.

It slowly dawned on Ian what this meant between two men in this culture. Honor was now at stake.

A challenge had been issued. Ian had challenged the great Sir Lancelot. The news would spread like wildfire all over Camelot. Indeed, something had to be done about this.

...

Barbara hurried after Ian who had stamped off to his quarters after he and Lancelot had gone through the formalities of naming a time and place. She pushed the curtain hanging over the doorway aside and went to stand beside him at the narrow window.

"Ian, I am sorry I responded to his flirting. Really, that is all it was, just some light flirting. But he is so like you in appearance and the attention he gave me...it is you that I wish gave me such sweet attention."

Ian pulled stiffly away from her, side stepping and crossing his arms. "It didn't look light to me! So I am not so courtly, am I? Not like him! He is a noble, a legendary hero. He has such smooth manners, a lilting voice. I'm just a clumsy academic, the son of a laborer, but one who studied hard and got an education. I am unschooled in the manners of nobles, especially if they are centuries old manners from a barbaric time. It is not my way to give you a courtly kiss! I am just not romantic enough for you, am I?"

Barbara touched his arm, but he did not respond. "Ian, it is you that I am attracted too, not him. I was wishing it was you when he kissed me. When you pushed him and told him to leave me alone, he got the message. It did not have to escalate into a challenge, which is what that slap means. I think you can still go to him and apologize and he would accept that."

Ian turned to her, his eyes sharp with anger. "You are not a man! You don't understand! Both he and I know what has to be done to satisfy honor. There must be a fight. That is expected in this primitive culture if we are to get along with the people here. It doesn't mean either of us has to get hurt, right?" Ian's look softened and he put his hands on Barbara's shoulders. "Look, I will go one round with him and concede. But I will not back down without a fight! He would not respect me if I did not try to fight him and I would not respect myself. After that, all the men here will treat me with more respect and he will leave you alone. That is the way things are done around here, right? From your knowledge of history? And this IS my culture, yours as well, even if from the distant past. The legends of this time, we all read them as children."

Ian looked more intently into her eyes, his anger slowly abating. "Please understand."

"I do understand, Ian. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. It doesn't mean I won't try to prevent it!"

She turned and walked out of his room. There was nothing more she could do by trying to reason with Ian. She tried talking to Sir Lancelot, then with King Arthur. Both of them said pretty much the same thing that Ian had said.

"Men!" She said as she passed the Doctor in a hallway. He shrugged and frowned, perplexed – having no idea what was going on . She went to the room she shared with Susan and threw herself on her bed face down in defeat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Duel**

Brian tried not to think of the impending duel. He focused on something else which was bothering him. Brian was finding it hard to think that he would have to say good-bye to Susan in the near future, but he knew she did not belong in his world. She was used to things she could never have here and would miss them. He could not ask her to stay, though he very much wanted to. And there was Aveline, Lancelot's younger sister. She also stirred him the way Susan did. He was so confused. Was it possible to fall in love with more than one girl at the same time?

Brian ran his hand over the central console of the Tardis. Such a wonderful, powerful machine. Someday the people of his world would build things like this. Not the people he knew, but their descendants. The Doctor had as much as admitted that, when he had talked about time travel - the little that he would talk about it at all, with Merlin and Lancelot. Brian had stood by quietly listening. If he was quiet, the adults would not notice him and talk as if he wasn't there. But Susan was different. She had shown him around this wonderful ship and he suspected that the Doctor would not have approved of it.

Brian froze, a sudden dreadful thought coursed through him. A very scary thought. Lancelot might have children one day. Those children would have children and so on down the years and the centuries. Those children would inherit their ancestor's looks, their abilities, and maybe their intelligence. But people in his time only remembered back a couple of generations. Brian did not even know his grandfather who had died before he was born, though he knew his name. But he did not know his great-grandfather's name despite Merlin trying to trace his family back for him to suggest he had noble ancestors so he could become a knight. It was hard for Brian to think of very many generations before him or after him. But with the strong resemblance between Ian and Lancelot, Ian could be Lancelot's great-great-great... It was possible! They were so much alike.

Pushing away from the console, Brian ran outside. He had to talk to Lancelot. He had to stop the duel that was the result of Ian's challenge. What if Lancelot killed Ian? He might be killing his own child, well child of his child of his... That would make Brian very sad. What if Ian killed Lancelot? Not only would it cause Brian great grief, Ian might cease to exist because he might never get to be born.

...

Coming from a tilting field, Lancelot saw Brian a quarter mile away running off toward the castle. Young people! They were always in a hurry. He shook his head and continued on his way, because he had seen the Doctor headed this way, in the direction of that blue box.

When Lancelot got near the box, he scratched his chin in thought. Then he circled the box, tapping it on each side with his foot. Where was the door? Yes, there was a handle on one side of the box. Merlin had told him that the Doctor said the box was a disguise for a ship that flew between the stars. What a concept! And why do such a thing? Merlin had said there were other worlds out there, with people on them.

More than one world? Lancelot sighed. And a world was only a planet? That the Earth was a planet like Venus or Mars in the night sky, had only been a plausible theory of the ancient Greeks, yet Merlin said the Egyptians had proof of the Earth's roundness using shadows of the sun. It had been one of several tall tales Lancelot had heard of but never paid much attention too before the Doctor had inadvertently confirmed the truth of it under Merlin's astute questioning. Lancelot remembered Merlin once telling him "Who knows how our lives are ruled by the sun, the moon, and the stars." And then Merlin had delayed a contest for a seat on the Round Table so that this thing called an eclipse occurred, allowing Balan to become a knight of the Table because that trick of blinding him with a mirror could not be used during this eclipse. That was fortuitous, but Lancelot liked his world just as it was without this astronomy of Merlin and the Doctor.

With one hand on his hip, Lancelot leaned forward to beat his palm against the side of the box that had the handle, still lost in thought about the vast enlargement of his universe that these strangers had brought. Wasn't there enough to deal with on their lovely island with raiders coming from the sea and fighting between men on horseback and on foot on land? Must they now deal with danger from the sky? Merlin had asked this question of the Doctor and apparently no one had to worry for at least fifteen hundred years about any other people coming from the stars. But by Barbara and Ian's time, humans had air ships, Lancelot had learned from Brian via Susan. None of adult strangers would talk to him about that, though! It was just as well that no weapons would come from the sky in Lancelot's time, because he was highly skilled and confident with the weapons of his time and did not want this to change. Air ships! Not having to learn to fly like a bird was fine with him since he didn't even like to climb trees...but that was another story.

The door suddenly opened, making Lancelot take a step back in surprise.

"Yes?" barked the Doctor. "Well don't just skulk about out there, come in, come in."

Lancelot took a deep breath and stepped inside the Tardis.

As everyone did, the first time, he turned in a circle, wide-eyed. Impossible! It was bigger on the inside than outside. And the lighting in here was as bright as outside. Where were the torches hidden?

The Doctor waited while a disoriented Lancelot tried to regain his sense of proportion and orient himself to this new experience. So like Ian's first reaction, the Doctor thought. He could use this man who was stronger than Ian and used to defending himself and others. But no, Lancelot had work to do here in this time period. The Doctor sighed and asked "I assume this visit has a purpose?"

"Have you shown this...this...phenomena to Merlin?" asked Lancelot, ignoring the Doctor's question, to insist on a question of his own.

"You didn't answer MY question. I asked first," said the Doctor, sounding a bit petulant and a bit arrogant all in one sentence.

"Yes, there IS a purpose to my visit. Now answer MY question," returned a stubborn Sir Lancelot.

"Young man, you are as arrogant as Chesterton. No doubt you are related, somehow."

"He is no relation of mine, as far as I know," said Lancelot. "But it is him I wish to discuss with you. We have gotten into a quarrel. Over a woman."

"Why am I not surprised?" the Doctor remarked. "Let me guess. He has insulted your queen in some way. My boy, you must understand that he is not used to your ways here. You both are equally obnoxious and I should have realized you two would clash somehow. Look," and the Doctor paced back and forth in front of a blinking table set at the center of the room that Lancelot observed intermittently when the Doctor's steps crossed and re-crossed in front of it. "Just educate him. He is not stupid or uncaring about alien protocol."

Lancelot crossed his arms. "From what all of you have been telling me, he is not alien to my world and neither is Barbara. But you and Susan are alien."

"True. That is true. But it is beside the point, hmm?"

"Indeed. And the initial breach of protocol, if there was one, was mine, not his. I don't understand the courtship rules of his and Barbara's time. I have been paying some attention to Barbara and..."

"Ah, Ian took offense!" interrupted the Doctor. "Well, as far as I know, there is no understanding between them. You have done nothing wrong according to his culture as far as I can see. You might talk to Susan about this; she is more familiar with Earth cultures than I am. Now run along, run along, I am busy here."

The Doctor made gestures toward the door with a flick of his hand.

Lancelot sighed. He was not going to get anywhere on this topic with the doctor. "As long as I am here..."

"No! I wouldn't give your Merlin a tour of the ship either. And he would have a better understanding of what I could show him."

"No doubt," said Lancelot with disappointment. It was only as he had suspected, but curiosity would not stop him from asking. He took one last look around this strange place, then strode to the door and went out.

As he stepped outside the Tardis, Lancelot felt a sharp sting on his neck. Swatting at what he thought was a bee, a round object fell into his palm. He knew exactly what that was!

"Brian! Was this necessary?" he shouted. " You are somewhere out here in this field and not a prisoner in a castle this time! There is no excuse for this annoying behavior!"

Susan stepped out from behind a tree. "Oh, I am so sorry, Sir Lancelot! I thought it was my grandfather coming out."

Lancelot thought better of grabbing Susan by the nose as he had done to Brian for the same offense. Instead he said testily "I took a hit meant for Merlin once, and now I take one meant for your grandfather!"

Looking at the vexation in Lancelot's intense blue eyes, Susan again apologized.

"Just the person I wanted to see anyway," said Lancelot, his mood taking a sudden turn as he gripped her by the elbow and steered her away from the Tardis. "I want to ask you something. Has Ian any combat experience? What is his background in this area?"

"Oh. Well, he is a teacher," frowned Susan. "But he did a couple of years in the army during the war. He was very young then and he doesn't like to talk about it."

"War? What kind of war?"

"I think with guns. That kind of war. Not swords. How can I explain? More like pea shooters which are larger and metal and use a kind of explosion to eject metal peas that can kill."

"I see," said Lancelot, who really didn't see. "So he is completely unskilled with a sword."

"I would expect so, Sir Lancelot. Why?"

"He has challenged me. He will need to use a sword."

"Oh no! Can't you settle whatever the problem is between you, by more peaceful means?"

"I am afraid not," said Lancelot gently, taking her hand and patting it. He wanted to ask more about that strange metal pea shooter. It sounded very disturbing. What was its range? What tactics were used with it? But he had more immediate concerns on his mind and walked off to attend to them.

...

There seemed to be a lot of activity around the ship this day. Toward evening, Brian, Aveline's hand on his arm, approached Ian as he was entering the Tardis.

"May we speak with you?" Said Aveline.

"Why, yes, come on inside, as it looks like it is about to rain."

"Not unusual around here," said Brian, following Ian into the ship and once again, looked around in amazement.

"Rain is not unusual around here either, in my time," smiled Ian.

Ian indulged the two teenagers who were looking him over with serious evaluative expressions. He was looking them over too. He thought a change of clothing and they could almost pass for his students at Coal Hill School. The very human teenage traits of curiosity and eager playfulness were present in these two, echoing that of new students at the beginning of a school term. Ian enjoyed young people, for they carried the hopes of their parents, and would inherit their culture and continue it.

"Okay you two, what's up?" he asked.

Brian glanced at Aveline, and then took the lead for the two of them. "We just wanted to spend a little time with you, learn more about the future."

"I am not sure that is such a good thing." Ian frowned. "You are the past of my own world. Anything I might tell you could easily instigate you into changing that past."

"But you are our future! We would like to know that what we are doing here in King Arthur's kingdom will have a positive effect on the future."

Ian raised his eyebrows in a manner that was familiar to both Brian and Aveline from observing Lancelot. "Believe me; the memory of King Arthur's reign is legendary in my time. I should not say more," said Ian, raising a restraining hand.

"It is disappointing that you cannot tell us more, but reassuring that our beloved king will be remembered," said Aveline. "Is my brother remembered too?"

"Most certainly," said Ian, rising on his toes, with his hands clasped behind his back. "Now if you children will run along now..."

Brian said "We would like to stay. We would like to watch you inside your Tardis."

"I am only mending my sweater at the moment. Sewing on a missing button," Ian said as he picked up a sweater from a chair and sat down. He thought they would soon grow tired of watching such a boring activity.

"Button? You mean those little round disks that you use instead of lacing up your tunic?" asked Aveline eagerly. "I have heard of such clothes fasteners, even in our time. One traveler from the East had such a garment. But that needle, I have never seen one made that thin!"

Even a mundane task as mending a sweater was more than these kids should be seeing, thought Ian. But since it was already too late to keep this from them and buttons seemed not unknown to them, he nodded and gestured to a bench where they could sit.

They all sat in silence as Ian continued his task, the two of them intently watching Ian's hands.

"You are looking at me as if you are about to make some sort of judgment." Said Ian, putting another stitch through the button.

"We feel somehow responsible for you, for your behavior," said Brian.

"Yes!" Aveline continued, "As you said, you are our future!"

"Not that close a future to yours," chortled Ian.

"We have a connection. I can feel it!" said Brian leaning forward. "I can't explain it. But since there is this rivalry of sorts between you and Sir Lancelot, I must say it has been of some concern to us."

Aveline added urgently, "You and my brother are so much alike. Don't you see? Too much alike in your quick response to perceived insults. You resent being so much alike that you irritate each other. You should not be in a silly quarrel. And even though you future people are taller than us, well, my brother you see, fighting is his life and he is very good at it."

Ian put down the sweater. "Look, even in my time a man is protective of his lady. Your Lancelot has to understand I can't let this incident pass. What if we only use those practice swords of yours? Go a couple of minutes with them. I don't think either of us could be hurt, well maybe a few bruises. Would that satisfy the honor of both of us?"

"Exactly what I was about to suggest!" said Brian, bathing Ian with that radiant smile of his. "Good. Aveline and I will be there to see that this does not get out of hand. As his squire and friend of his sister, I have a great interest in this. And as for you, you mean something to me that I don't quite understand but it has a powerful meaning."

"Come, Brian, we have to talk to my brother also," said Aveline, rising and reaching out her hand for him to take.

"Well I am glad I could ease your minds in this matter," said Ian cheerfully. "See you soon, then?"

They smiled and nodded and hurried away, hand in hand.

...

The next day, Ian was extremely nervous and trying not to show it. He was young, agile, and had always been good at sports. But aside from some basic military training when he had been in the service, Ian did not keep up a daily regimen of martial skills as Lancelot did, and had not honed the martial mindset that Lancelot had found it necessary to maintain since childhood.

Lancelot was calm, almost nonchalant. He was confident of the outcome of this exercise, and hoped that it would satisfy everyone. He had praised Brian for his suggestion of using blunt practice swords. Sometimes the boy showed excellent problem solving skills. Other times...well, he was still just a boy.

Brian set two of the wooden practice swords on a table and stepped back. Lancelot gestured to Ian that he was relinquishing the choice of weapons to him. Ian lifted both; they were virtually identical. To him, this choice did not matter, for he too knew what the outcome would probably be. He only had to show a willingness to defend himself. So he grabbed one sword and turned to walk to the center of the dirt hard-packed area where people were crowding around, held back by guards. Ian instinctively moved around the circle of people until he was in front of Barbara, as if stating his possession and protection of her.

Lancelot walked to a position opposite Ian, swinging the sword as he walked, getting a feel for it. His expression was purposeful, as if he was saying "Okay, let's get this thing over with." This was duty, something expected of him and of Ian, not something he particularly relished.

Neither moved. They stood there taking stock of each other, and people could see that they were not really twins if they were paying close attention. Ian was a little taller and more slender, a bit rounded in the shoulders, yet defiant and determined. Lancelot was better muscled, focused, confident. Deciding to test Ian's balance and natural movements, Lancelot took a step toward him.

Ian took a step back. Then he realized another step back would bump him into a spectator, so his next step was sideways – to the right since he was right handed. Then he took a step forward, his weapon held low in the same position since he had taken it off the table. Lancelot, noticing this, moved his sword out to the side, then to mid height, then across his body - raising it at an angle, then back to a mid position, and slowly inclining the point toward Ian. This was an intimidating act which he hoped would force Ian to move his sword in a series of defensive warm ups.

That did not work. Ian held his sword in the same position, concentrating on Lancelot's movements. Well, thought Lancelot, at least he has the instinct to study his opponent instead of rushing into a series of rash movements which would leave much of his body unguarded and open to effective attacks. And Lancelot thought that after this was over, he would privately tutor Ian, invite him along to sessions he had with Brian.

Ian's nervousness finally got the better of him and he stepped forward, raising the tip of his sword. He also wanted this over with. The onlookers were a distraction to him, especially when someone coughed and a child giggled before being smacked quiet by a parent. He flinched.

"Never mind these people," Lancelot advised Ian. "Distraction is deadly, even though this exercise is not – learn to ignore them. Unless, of course, they are going for their weapons too," Lancelot smiled briefly in an attempt to inject some humor.

Ian did return his smile but his shoulders dropped, slightly relaxing his guard. This inspired Lancelot to make his move. Raising his sword to high chest level, he took two steps forward and swept the sword in an arc down cracking it against Ian's and almost knocking Ian's sword out of his hand.

It had been a light blow, to Lancelot's way of thinking, but it had greater effect than Lancelot had anticipated. Ian indeed was unskilled at this. But Lancelot did not wish to disarm the man before he had at least made a couple of aggressive movements to satisfy honor and to show bravery. Ian retained his sword though it had been knocked to one side.

Then Lancelot got what he wanted. And then some. Ian had been watching the knights at practice and had internalized many movements. He, like Lancelot, was a natural fighter, though neither of them knew that. Without even thinking about it, Ian stepped forward, raising his sword in a circle off the momentum of the blow it had received from Lancelot, to continue a movement out, around, down, and in against the other side of Lancelot's sword. The swords connected and Lancelot stepped back.

Emboldened, Ian moved forward powered by a hopeful shot of adrenalin and made his first mistake. He swung his sword out too far to the left as he swept it past Lancelot's sword, just grazing it. Lancelot jabbed and gave Ian a sharp poke in the stomach, then pulled his sword back and sideways in a blocking motion, anticipating correctly, Ian's upsweep of his sword to smack against Lancelot's sword. Locked in cross-sword position, Lancelot pushed forward, almost knocking Ian backwards. Ian broke the stance by side stepping, sliding his sword off Lancelot's in a disengaging movement.

"You have learned something by just watching us," chortled Lancelot. "I am impressed. But, you still have so much to learn, Ian."

Lancelot now executed a series of lightning fast moves which Ian attempted to parry clumsily. Still, he remained on his feet longer than Lancelot had expected. But the inevitable was only moments away. Lancelot stepped back to let Ian regain balance. Ian was breathing hard and lowered himself into a semi-wrestler's crouch to get set for the next attack. He was no longer in a mindset to be aggressive but he was determined to keep up a defense as long as he could.

Lancelot nodded to Ian, an acknowledgment that both Ian and the spectators understood as respect of one opponent for another. Ian had relaxed slightly again, realizing that he had been judged well, had proved himself. Before he could get set for Lancelot's next move, the knight made it – a heavy blow angled to Ian's sword so that it dislodged his thumb, the weakest part of a person's hand, and sent the weapon spinning across the combat area to rest at the feet of the boy who had giggled previously. The boy picked it up, examining it in wonder.

Lancelot moved forward and knocked into Ian with his shoulder, pushing him to the ground and onto his back. Then he dramatically held his sword to Ian's chest for a moment. Breaking into a smile, he reached down with his left hand to help Ian up. Ian hesitated for a moment, the crowd in suspense over whether this gesture of reconciliation would be accepted with good grace.

It was. Ian gave his hand to Lancelot and was pulled gently to his feet. Lancelot clapped him on the back, which almost made Ian loose his balance again, making him realize how tired he actually was. But Lancelot steadied him and the two of them walked off together, the crowd, clapping and smiling, and parting to let them through.

...

The next morning, Ian took a long walk with Barbara to explore the gardens and orchards around Camelot. He was finding it easier to express some of his feelings and she responded with warmth. They still only skirted the fact of their budding romance, talking about everything and anything but that.

The afternoon found Ian in the knight's practice area. Lancelot had sent Brian off to get them some mugs of water after a most satisfying practice session for the three of them.

"I see now that I let my emotions get the best of me and I shouldn't have challenged you," Ian said gruffly. He was enjoying having a twin brother, which was the way he was beginning to think of Lancelot. Growing up, he had repeatedly requested a younger brother of his parents. Lancelot had requested one too, of his own parents. All either of them got were sisters who were deeply loved – but it wasn't the same as a younger brother to tussle with, to perhaps bully a bit, and then make up with. Both men felt that need finally answered now, in a belated but satisfying way.

Lancelot, thumbs hitched into his sword belt, rolled a small stone with his toe and looking down at it; a gentle smile briefly lit his face. "I realized that," was his answer to Ian's admission of the jealous temper tantrum that had caused the challenge. "But to get respect around here, there was only one way out of our argument. Still, you had nothing to worry about; I would have seen to it that you were not too badly hurt, only enough to satisfy honor."

"I know that now. Thank you."

Lancelot smiled more broadly and looked at Ian with those blue, blue eyes. "And you had nothing to worry about with Barbara. I flirt and I tease and women like that. I like all women, and most of them seem to like me. When a particular woman has my heart, however, that is a very private thing and only she will know."

Ian sighed. "You are better at relating to women than I am, surprisingly, considering how much civilization has advanced from your time to mine, where the rights of women have vastly improved. You do well in your world with this outdated military technology, but I expect you would fit right in with the military of my time, if they gave you time to study it."

Lancelot looked thoughtful. "Perhaps. I think it is a mindset more than the particular weapons. You have to work at it. Even when you win tournaments and battles, you have to continue to work at it. What do you work at, Ian?"

"Me? I work at mathematical puzzles. I keep up with the latest developments in physics and chemistry. I attend teacher's conferences."

"You are more like Merlin than like me, I think."

"But I am not a charlatan."

"Neither is he. A bit of a showman, but at heart, he is a true scientist. Like you. Spend some time with him before you leave us." Something caught Lancelot's eye on the far side of the field. "I see the Queen beckoning me. We will talk more later, if you like."

Ian nodded and watched his nearly identical, but more physically fit twin, walk away. Ian had looked down on this time period as something childish and brutal that his more modern time period had outgrown. He suddenly realized that it was the same attitude that the Doctor looked at him with, accompanied by that smarmy, dismissive, I-know-better set of gestures that Ian had always bristled under. He was beginning to appreciate Lancelot. The man deserved more respect than he had been giving him.

12


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: A Brotherly Act**

The day broke clear with a pleasant cooling breeze and a promise of sunshine. Ian thought he would help Brian by snatching up Lancelot's extra tunic and spare chain mail that he noticed were left in the knight's practice area, as he walked through to breakfast in the main hall. Brian surely would be scolded for not picking up equipment if Lancelot found it had been left to gather dew overnight. What was with the boy lately? Ah, Aveline had distracted him, dragged him off somewhere no doubt. And the boy seemed to have his eye on Susan too. Women. They always were doing that to us men, he mused.

He reached Lancelot's quarters and was about to deposit the tunic and chain mail on a chair when he heard a step in the hallway outside.

"Lancelot," a low voice hailed him from the doorway. "Would you come with me? I want to show you something."

Ian glanced at Sir Ethan, not the friendliest man to Lancelot, Ian knew. Ian hesitated, just on the point of revealing his identity.

Ethan flicked his head to the left. "Now. It's important. Come with me down the back stairway and out into the pear orchard. We need to talk."

"Alright, just let me put on my chain mail and tunic," said Ian. He thought Ethan looked as if he was about to upbraid Lancelot, probably for scolding Ethan's squire, the other day, for his aggressive abusiveness to the other squires. Lancelot always called people on their bad behavior, but perhaps he had stepped a bit out of line this time as it was not his place to discipline someone else's squire. Lancelot was known to jump instantly on any injustice, a habit which sometimes irritated people. But still, thought Ian, Lancelot had been right in this instance, though not very diplomatic about it. Ian had saved Brian a scolding today, so he would save Lancelot one too, by bearing the angst of Ethan's coming rant. This was his good deed doing day, Ian thought. He reached for the chainmail.

"I just want to have a quick word with you," urged Ethan. "You won't need your armor. Come as you are. This won't take long."

Ian sighed and just pulled Lancelot's red tunic over his head and followed Ethan.

Ethan practically ran down the stairs and out a small door and strode with purpose through the herb garden to a gate in the wall where one of his men stood.

"Uh oh," Ian whispered quietly to himself. But he kept moving, determined to take the scolding with good grace.

He should have listened to his inner warning voice and turned back. For out in the orchard Ethan turned to face Ian, legs apart, a smirk on his face. He grabbed an iron bar from the crotch of a pear tree and slapped it against the palm of his hand. "Edward? Nathan? Paul? You all here?"

Several men stepped out from behind various trees, surrounding Ian.

Taking a step backward with his hands raised, palms forward, Ian said placatingly "I thought you just wanted to talk."

Ethan looked around to assure himself his friends were with him. Then he turned to Ian with the confidence of a bully backed up by overkill. "I don't talk with my mouth like you do with your big mouth insulting my squire. I talk with THIS," he said, striking his palm again, "when a man has insulted me."

Ian raised his chin in defiance, knowing there was nothing he could do that would stop what was coming, but said "This is not knightly behavior you know, cornering a man without his armor and ganging up on him."

Ethan laughed. "Who's to know? I am expert at getting information out of people and punishing them with this piece of iron," and he held up his iron bar, waving it slowly. "I leave no marks. Take this beating like a man. And don't go whining to anyone or I will do worse to your own precious squire."

They stepped toward him from all sides and Ian closed his eyes briefly, trying to relax, as tense muscles would hurt more.

...

"Where is Ian?" asked Lancelot. I was going to show him a few self defense moves without weapons that he could use next time someone in the bad parts of his London tried to lift his wallet."

"He said he would be here," said Brian, frowning. "And he said he would bring Barbara because she too could use this training. Their school is not in the best area. They are dedicated to educating young people from families like the one I was born into, giving them a chance at a better life, like you are doing for me."

Lancelot mussed Brian's hair. "We do have some ideas in common, Ian and me, don't we?"

Barbara walked up behind them, a sad look on her face. "Ian is not feeling well. He wouldn't even let me enter his quarters. He said he didn't want me to catch his cold. Would you still show me some of these self defense skills?"

...

Brian went to check on Ian just before midday meal. Ian had put a cloth over the window to darken the room and was lying on his bed with his face to the wall. Since early morning, Brian had been having an uneasy feeling about Ian, but the feeling did not seem to be about illness.

"Ian? They are serving venison. I know you are partial to that."

Ian groaned. Brian pulled a stool over to the bed and sat. Ian's position looked like he was suffering from soreness, not a cold. Brian touched Ian's shoulder. Ian flinched. Brian ran his hand down Ian's side, and then squeezed his leg. Ian gasped.

"You have received a beating, haven't you?" said Brian, softly.

"This is not something I am willing to discuss!" groaned Ian.

"And why do you have Sir Lancelot's tunic on?"

Ian groaned again as he turned over to look at Brian. "Help me off with it, would you? And return it to Lancelot's room."

"Okay, but why are you wearing it?"

"I found it in the practice area and was returning it to Lancelot's room to save you a scolding."

"Thank you. But why are you wearing it?" Brian persisted.

"None of your business!"

Brian drew back his hand. Ian had never been sharp with him like Lancelot could be when Brian had misbehaved. Something was not right here. Perceptive lad that he was, Brian took a wild guess. "You took a beating meant for Sir Lancelot."

"Don't you go telling anyone about this! Sometimes you are just too free with your mouth, Brian!"

Brian said softly, "Look, I will go get you some water, okay? I will be back soon."

"Too free with my mouth?" Brian said to himself as he ran down a corridor, "Yes, I am going to be. Right now!" And he went to find Lancelot.

...

"Brian told you! I told him not to," said Ian, flinching in pain. He could not help groaning as Lancelot inspected his injuries.

"Tell me about it," insisted Lancelot in a stern voice. "Who did this to you?"

"He said no one would be able to notice," sighed Ian. "He said he knew how to cause pain that would leave no bruises."

"There are always bruises. Especially from a beating of this extent," scolded Lancelot.

Ian shuttered. "I only put on your tunic because he came into your room when I was dropping it off and he thought I was you. He said he only wanted to talk to you. I knew by his manner that you were in for a browbeating, but I didn't expect a real beating. I thought I could save you a scolding, so I put on the tunic and went with him."

"Commendable, but very foolish," Lancelot said gently. "And I know you think it is manly not to tell me who did this, but whoever did it, acted cowardly. Did he have others to help him?"

Ian nodded.

"Typical of a bully, which this man seems to be. He wasn't a knight was he?" asked Lancelot.

"Yes," Ian winced. "But he said that if I told anyone, he would take that iron to Brian worse than he did to me."

Lancelot was quiet for a minute. Then he cleared his throat and said. "Then this man has broken his vows, at least the vows those of the Round Table live by. It would be no shame for you to identify this man. In fact, it would be the right thing to do so we can insist on the justice that Arthur's court so values."

"He is not yet a knight of the Table. He came here to become one; he bragged about that."

Lancelot's voice hardened. "Who is he, Ian?"

"Ethan."

"You did well to tell me, Ian. It was laudable for you to act as a friend and try to protect me and Brian. But this sort of violence will not be stopped by silence. This man will be evicted from Camelot."

Lancelot was impressed with Ian's bravery. He was about to muss Ian's hair. But Ian was a grown man, with a man's dignity. So Lancelot gentle touched his shoulder and quietly left the room.

...

Ian, still a bit stiff from his beating a week ago, climbed the stairway to Merlin's rooms. He was following Lancelot's advice about having a talk with Merlin. Since they were soon to leave in the Tardis, this might be the last time Ian would get a chance for a friendly chat between 'wizards'.

As Ian stood on the threshold of a round chamber, he realized that Merlin's 'lab' was nothing like what he was used to, but still, it fascinated him. He saw Merlin hunched over an experiment and mumbling. Ian smiled and said to Merlin's back "Hello, Merlin."

"Lancelot, I was about to send for you." Merlin turned. "Oh, it's you."

"Disappointed?"

"Well, no, not really," the old man squinted nearsightedly at Ian. "I have been meaning to ask you about this atom splitting that young Susan mentioned inadvertently. The Doctor won't discuss it with me."

"And neither will I, except to say that atoms are tiny particles and there are other particles which are much smaller. Since you don't have the powerful microscopes to see them anyway, I will tell you that small particles and small creatures have a great effect on medicine and physics. Okay, I have said too much already," chortled Ian.

"As I always suspected, there are smaller things that affect us which we cannot see. We are not quite as ignorant as we seem." Merlin frowned but then brightened. "Your voice, your humor, they are so like Lancelot's. And your bravery and boldness too, I expect. Yet you are a scientist, not a soldier."

"Lancelot could be a scientist, if he pursued the discipline. He has the curiosity and the intelligence," Ian admitted.

"Don't I know that!" said Merlin. "And a perverse sense of humor." Merlin sighed. "But considering our social milieu, his martial prowess is more needed. "Now that Brian, he is a boy from the same mould, even though lowly born."

Ian responded eagerly "I teach boys like Brian. And girls. It is my dream that at least one of them will one day make great scientific discoveries and improve the life of all humans."

"So idealistic." Merlin shook his head. "And your time so advanced, yet looking for still better ways. Humans forever trying to uncover the last of nature's secrets."

"As is The Doctor. As advanced as his people are, they don't know everything yet. There is still some magic in the universe."

"There should always be some magic in the universe," said Merlin, scratching his chin through his beard. "People crave rapture and mystery in life, as well as the pleasure of discovering, in detail, how all things work. Take my magic inks and my little flame explosions, they entertain. They make people startle and smile."

"Believe it or not, I have entertained my own students with...little explosions," admitted Ian, crossing his arms and laughing.

"You have?" Merlin pounded a fist on his work table. "Well then, we are not so very different, are we?"

"No, we are not. And despite his teenage trickster soul, I think Brian is learning much from you. Do you know that my students love to hide the chalk for my blackboard and giggle as I hunt for it?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, try dealing with little fish in your wash bowl, drat that boy!"

The two scientist/magicians laughed. Then Merlin found a jug of ale and two mugs. They settled into a long pleasant visit.

...

Lancelot was mulling over a few comments he had heard about his future reputation. He especially was concerned about what Ian had said in anger just after he had slapped him. Yes, his game hunter's good hearing had heard what Ian had whispered to Barbara about that suicide. The best thing to do would be to ask Ian directly, but he didn't want to risk bring up an issue that had already been settled with another man. So Lancelot decided the second best thing would be to talk to a woman. After all, it was his reputation with women that this was about.

He found Barbara near a pool in one of the gardens, soaking straw to weave harvest charms. She had a start on a nice spiral.

" Barbara, may I speak confidentially with you?" Lancelot said, unwilling to approach her closer from the gate to this particular garden, since being alone with her had caused so much trouble before.

Barbara looked up at him, smiled and gestured to a bench facing the one she was on, a few feet away. She also was now sensitive to showing anything that could be perceived as intimate contact between her and this gorgeous man.

He squeaked open the wooden gate and sat on the bench facing her, leaning forward with his hands joined, elbows on his thighs. "Thank you. Well, I have heard that your century looks back on my king with great respect and affection. I am very proud of that. But...I have heard innuendos that I am not looked upon quite so favorably. Maybe I should be doing something to change that."

Barbara closed her eyes for a second, thinking. She looked at Lancelot with sincerity and sadness. "You are looked upon as a great knight, perhaps the greatest. Without you, your king would not have accomplished what he is known for. It is not your fault that women of all ages...yes, all ages and times, fall in love with you so easily."

"But there is one who is said to have taken her life because I did not pay more attention to her. I cannot in all conscience, accept that."

"But, it was not your fault!"

"Oh, so it DID happen?"

"That is not necessarily so. Hundreds of years after your time, people will be writing stories about you. Some of these are stories passed down by word of mouth and these stories get changed. Other stories are entirely made up because they are entertaining. In my own century, there are a hundred authors speculating on what you looked like, what your personality was, what you actually did. So if this suicide really happened, I don't know. It may not have happened at all! Just continue living your life as you think it should be lived. Continue making choices that seem right. And just be your own self."

"Well that is comforting. I shall do as you advise." He stood up. "Yet, about this one woman..."

Barbara looked up. "She was weak minded and selfish, I think. In the story, she was obsessed with you. She used you. You were drinking a lot of ale and then, she even drugged your ale to get her way with you. There is a word for what she did to you, an ugly word, usually applied to men who abuse women sexually. In her case, if indeed she is a real person, if she hadn't killed herself over you, perhaps she would have done it for another reason. The psychologists, mind doctors, of my time have proven this from studying many other people."

Lancelot closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and smiled. "Thank you for easing my mind. It doesn't entirely absolve me, but it helps."

He went back through the gate, more at peace than when he had come in.

...

Brian kept looking from Aveline to Susan and back. He had one of them on each arm as they walked along the path next to the river. He was pretending that they were ladies in thrall with him at a tournament where he had just won the top prize. And all the women had rained flowers down on him, blowing him kisses like they did with Sir Lancelot.

"Brian, when will you be able to become a full knight?" asked Susan, breaking the bubble, the image of Brian's day dreaming.

"Huh? Oh, at least two years, perhaps more. When Sir Lancelot thinks I am ready. I have to gain my full height first, and my full strength."

"I see," said Susan. "Is that the time that you and Aveline might become promised?"

"Yes, Brian, would that be the time?" Aveline teased.

Brian blushed. "I would have to be a very good knight for your brother to ever agree to that. A newly made knight is not yet a proven knight. I still would have to have at least a year of successful missions as a knight before any man would promise his daughter or sister to me."

Aveline said "So it would be at least three years, more probably four or five. I can wait, Brian. Look at my brother, he is still unmarried."

"So I have noticed," sighed Brian. "Susan, you are very pretty, would you came back and be an attendant at Aveline's wedding?"

"I would be honored. Yet I don't think that would be possible, but I will be thinking about you, always." She smiled at both of them.

...

Meeting fascinating people and then having to part with them was a way of life for the travelers on the Tardis. For Ian and Barbara, being back home, even in the wrong century, made them more determined than ever to urge the Doctor to return them to their own time. But becoming more relaxed around the people of Camelot made them more and more likely to reveal things about the future which they should not. It was time to leave.

Barbara enjoyed moving between the company of Ian and of Lancelot, exploring their similarities, enjoying their differences. But she knew where her loyalty lay. So she took Ian aside one day. She stepped close to Ian and cupped her hand over his ear to whisper "What a thrill to know you are effectively the identical twin of the real historical Lancelot and that we know he was in some ways even better than his legend. But YOU are MY knight, Ian. I am restless now to find our way home and explore a life with just you."

This was the first time Barbara had broached in words, the feeling that had been building between them for some time. Ian hugged her to him, too overwhelmed to respond verbally. It made him also long for their home century. All he could manage was a simple "Yes."

Susan sensed that her grandfather was ready to leave. She would have liked to spend more time with Aveline and Brian. They had been venturing further from Camelot each day on horseback and had wanted to take her to Benwick to spend a few days with Lady Elaine, Aveline's mother. But that was a bit too far to go by themselves safely.

Susan was becoming ever more proficient with the peashooter Brian had made for her. They had set up a target and spent hours on contests of accuracy. There was not much she could share from her culture with them, considering the constraints her grandfather gave her on revealing advanced technology. So she tried to participate more in their culture and helped Aveline mend Brian's chainmail shirts in exchange for teaching her the skills so necessary in their world. Maybe someday, somewhere else in the universe, she might need these skills.

Lancelot had finally gotten around to showing Ian a few hand-to-hand combat techniques. These indeed would be useful to Ian anywhere in the universe. Merlin and the Doctor had enjoyed discussions over many a mug of ale, despite the areas that the Doctor was reticent on. It only served to confirm for Merlin that he was on the right track with many of his projects. It confirmed for him that certain things he suspected did actually exist, and that one day humans would discover them. This gave him great joy, though he knew he would never witness most of these discoveries.

The day of departure finally arrived. Half of the population of Camelot paraded behind the four companions out to the field where the Tardis waited. The Doctor made a little speech, hands gripping the lapels of his coat. He thanked the people of Camelot for their kind hospitality, explained that their social experiment had great significance in the history of human kind, and wished them all long and happy lives.

Lancelot took Barbara's hand and kissed it. "If it were not for the fact that another lady has already captured my heart, I would court you with great ardor. I take solace in the fact that it is my virtual twin who has won your heart, Dear Lady."

Barbara blushed. She wished Ian had the finesse of Lancelot, but no person ever had all the qualities you wished they had. Yet Ian meant more to her than any other human being. Lancelot, in an odd way, had shown that to her. She reached up on tip-toe and kissed him on the cheek before turning away to say good-bye to Brian and Aveline.

Lancelot then stepped over to Ian and clapped him on the back, saying "I never before had much interest in the sky. But now that I know there are people up there and out there, I will never look up at it the same way again, Brother."

Ian shook Lancelot's hand. He would never see this man again, most likely. Yet, he would be reminded of him every time he looked in his shaving mirror. Ian said "I don't know whether to call you brother or many times great-grandfather. For certainly, because of your life, my life centuries after yours is better than it would have been if you had not existed – even if we are not of the same family. Yet who knows? We might even be genetically related. It is impossible for us to really know. Still, we belong to the same soil, you and me."

Brian pressed a bag of dried peas into Susan's hand before she hugged him close. "Ammunition for you in a dangerous universe," he said.

Then Susan kissed both him and Aveline. It was getting harder to leave the humans she was meeting in different time periods. She had a feeling that someday she would not be able to leave them at all, and would see her grandfather go off in the Tardis without her. Would she really be able to do that one day? Part with her beloved grandfather? Only time would tell.

With a sigh, the four of them entered the Tardis before they all broke into tears.

...

While the Tardis was transporting them to their next destination and while the others got some badly needed sleep, the Doctor, like many elders, was up puttering around. He decided to research a hunch he had. The swabs of genetic material surreptitiously taken from Ian and the others needed analysis. They lay there before him, these swabs taken from Lancelot, Aveline, and their mother Elaine. Elaine had sealed a jar of emollient with her saliva, before she gave it to Aveline to take to Camelot with her. The Doctor had borrowed that emollient to get the swab.

The Doctor was looking for evidence of more than one kind. He turned away from the genetic evidence and began to search what historical records he could access in several databases. Specifically, he was interested in the descendents of Lady Elaine and King Ban. He found that Lancelot had one son, Galahad, but Galahad never had any children. So what could have accounted for Ian's likeness to Lancelot? Then the Doctor picked up research into the descendents of Lancelot's sister, Aveline, who following the death of her husband, Sir Brian, in old age, had entered a convent where records of her family had been carefully kept down the centuries after her time.

So something very fortunate indeed had come of Lancelot's encouraging a relationship between Brian and his sister – a marriage and continuation of the family line. From the records, they had eight children, six of which survived to adulthood to have children of their own. Following the lines of Brian and Aveline's descendants, two of the lines did pass down to at least the 17th century on Earth. That was as far as written records could take him.

The Doctor then compared the mitochondrial DNA from Aveline and her mother to that of the sample the Doctor had taken from Ian. The sample was not of Ian's DNA, but that of his sister. It was taken from the saliva on an envelope of a letter from his sister. Ian had received that letter and stuffed it in his jacket pocket on that fateful day he had boarded the Tardis in London, looking for Susan.

The doctor squinted at the results of the samples between the women of divergent centuries. A positive match! So...Ian indeed did share a genetic inheritance with Lancelot. The fact that they physically and psychologically resembled each other now had a plausible explanation.

Pondering the discovery, the Doctor was in a quandary. It was too late to tell Lancelot Aveline and Brian, since the Tardis had left that time period. Besides, that would have been revealing their future to them – a think the Doctor would not do. But it was not too late to tell Ian about his family connections to the past. Should he tell him? What good or what harm would that do?

That Brian and Aveline had sensed the distant connection was uncanny, but it had been documented that the two of them had been extremely protective of their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Was there a part of the human brain that could sense kinship – even such distant kinship fourteen centuries apart? The Doctor was testing the border between science and magic with this line of thought. Maybe someday there would be proof or disproof of this idea of genetic memory or, as in Brian's case, a fore sensing genetic awareness.

The Doctor locked the evidence of this family history, this proof of an interesting inheritance, away in his lab on the Tardis. He thought that it was best for some things to remain hidden by the passage of time.

**Note at the end of this story:** The inspiration for this story is of course the fact that William Russell played both Lancelot in The Adventures of Sir Lancelot, and Ian Chesterton in Dr Who. That provided two characters that are identical in looks and similar in personality. An additional inspiration came from the current rapid advancement in genetics, making it possible for people to trace their genetic heritage with much greater accuracy than ever before. I was fascinated by the identification of the remains of Richard III earlier this year, which was done by comparison to a living relative traced back through a female line. Still, it is a bit of a stretch to trace back from the 20th century to the 6th century. But this is science fiction and if any character in science fiction could do it, it would be good old Dr Who.

13


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